Copy Cat
by BbuLeu
Summary: *Published for Fathers Day* A little fun and bonding between Father and Daughter one day, including how Bra starts her first session of training from the arrogant prince. Awww... NO LONGER A ONE SHOT!
1. Chapter 1

~ **discalimer**: sadly, I do _not _own any of the Dragonball trilogy and I never will... writing the disclaimer is pointless and it just reminds me of what I will never own *otherwise I'd be rich with muscley men strutting around :P*

~**A/N**: Happy Fathers Day, peoples! I was planning on releasing this one-shot after my 130 Days was complete but, seeing as I'm busy for the next week and it _is _Fathers Day, now seems like the best possible time. This was my first story I wrote :D so please don't hurt my nostalgia...

~**R&R please x **I love reviews :)

Bra watched her older brother, playing with Goten with wide eyes. Her eyes were glued to the both of them, though that didn't slow down the pace of scoffing the 10 cheese toasties into her mouth.

"Hey Goten, wanna spar?"

"_Hey Goten, wanna spar?"  
><em>

"Oh, not again…"

"_Oh, not again…"_

The purple haired youth smirked cunningly at him, knowing his closest friend would copy everything he says…

"GOTEN IS A BRAINLESS MORON WHO LIKES IT UP THE REAR!"

"_GOTEN IS A BRAINLESS MORON WHO LIKES IT UP THE_…- What? Trunks, that's not fair!"

Trunks was too busy rolling on the floor to notice any whines coming from the fuming Goten. Indeed, he continued laughing as said fuming Goten pounced on him and tried to pummel him.

Bulma calmly and gently put down the razor sharp kitchen knife in her hand before she whirled round at the counter, turning her back on the lunch she was preparing. "Boys! Cut it out, you're nineteen, not five! For goodness sake, I hoped that lunch would have calmed you both down, but noooo-"

"Alright, alright, we'll go outside. C'mon Goten."

The two adolescents ambled through the kitchen door, shoving each other to the side as they half raced each other to the front door, whilst Vegeta, shirtless as usual after his training, slipped in through the back and sat at the table. He was thankful of his good timing as he watched the boys practically leapfrog themselves outside.

"Before you _demand _your lunch, I'm just finishing it off." She turned and smiled at him. Vegeta managed a few precious seconds watching hi wife from behind, his mind momentarily off food.

Suddenly, a little voice piped up. "Mama, Goten likes what up the rear?"

Vegeta scoffed and stared wide eyed at the blue haired Bulma-mini-me opposite him. She had a huge quizzical smile on her little face. There was something about the little girl that just screamed cuteness, deafening to Vegeta. His lips opened but no sound came out.

Without missing a beat, Bulma half looked over her shoulder at her husband. "His car, sweetie. Goten likes to park his car behind his house. To protect it from the wind."

Bulma raised her eyebrows in Vegeta's direction as she stated this, quickly with a very firm but kind 'end of subject' tone. Vegeta would have just blurted out the totally inappropriate thing (how else did Trunks discover 'the birds and bees'? Trunks had never mentioned the F-word until after their little chat…)

This was the precise reason why Bulma stared at him with the plate held between them. The twenty something toasties would only land in front of him when he confirmed the answer….

Narrowing his eyes, Vegeta answered with a gruff voice. "Yes. His car." He muttered, before tucking in.

A few seconds later, he heard an equally low voice mutter, "…_His car_."

Vegeta polished off his plate and leant back. Those toasties had not satisfied his hunger. Rather it took the edge off. At least his lunch actually tasted nice. The woman had finally taken to cooking rather well (she had to! A full-grown Saiyan and two growing hybrids show no mercy when they are hungry). It had taken around twenty years, but she could finally dish up some nice food.

He sniffed the air, frowning. Burning was mingled with the delicious cheesy smells. "Second attempt?"

"Hehem. Yes." Bulma looked forlorn as she poured herself a coffee. She hadn't burnt anything for days, and now she managed to burn a simple toastie! Still, she had thrown it into the bin before taking a deep breath before picking up another slice of bread and continuing like it never happened.

"Your second attempt was worth it, then. Much better."

"…_Much better__…_"

Bra looked a little pink in the cheeks as her father glared at her, feeling smaller and smaller as the back of her feet swung underneath her chair. His narrowed eyes were wearing the typical '_I'm not pleased' _(understatement!)look he always wore. But Bulma was relived when there was no malice, or anger, or frustration in them. Nor was there any in his voice.

"What are you doing, girl?"

"_What are you doing, girl?"_

"Do not mock me- answer me!"

"_Do not mock me- answer me!"_

Vegeta let out a small growl. Bra retorted with an equally pissed of growl that made Bulma shudder. No one could deny it- Bra was defiantly Vegeta's daughter. Not even Trunks could imitate that growl as well as his little sister.

Vegeta, however, didn't stay on the same thought for long. "What is she doing, woman?"

"_What is she doing, woman?"_

Bulma hesitated. Words like _mocking, teasing, playing or annoying _was not going to help the matter. "Copying you." She smiled, "Pretending to be you." She paused before continuing. "I notice it's only _you _she's copying!"

Vegeta had yet to take his eyes off the little girl, but smirked as he realised that she wanted- no _aspired-_ to be like him. And she too could push the right buttons to piss off Bulma. All she needed was some…guidance.

So slowly, he raised a hand and put it back down, only for it to be mimicked by her. He waved his other hand, then leant on his elbows and put his chin on his hands. He didn't blink, nor did she. Both were watching each other like hawks, a perfect mirror image. Their stares were so intense Bulma felt like _she _had to look away before the room caved in or something.

Vegeta pointed to his wife and simply said, "Woman." Bra, as expected, did the exact same thing.

"Vegeta! You jerk- now she'll start calling me that! I get enough of that from you, thank you very much."

He wasn't listening. He merely chuckled as he abruptly stood up, the chair scraping lightly. He stalked silently through the back door and into the garden. Bulma's anger faded when she saw little Bra following, trying so hard to stalk like her daddy when he moved so quickly. She was simply adorable. And Vegeta, well, she had married him many years ago but never once regretted it, nor did he. That alone said more than anything else could.

This is why she smiled at the spectacle outside and leant against the counter. As the blue haired woman watched the Prince and the Princess though the kitchen window, her heart was swelling from pure bliss and love.

Vegeta walked to the middle of the garden and surreptitiously glanced over his shoulder. Bra had finally caught up to him and stood beside him, panting slightly and waiting for his next move. Still silent, he took his trainers off and stood barefoot on the grass. Next to him, little purple court shoes were swiftly tossed aside for now.

He had turned to face her now and noticed that her arms were crossed tightly across her chest. Looking down at his own chest, he had realised he was doing so himself. He regarded the concentration on her face and contemplated his next move. He levitated just a few inches off the ground, his toes lazily hanging above the grass, and effortlessly landed about a metre away. He waited.

Wide eyed, Bra panicked. She couldn't fly yet! She had tried before several times, but her parents told her it takes time. _Why couldn't she fly yet? Why?_

Vegeta was still waiting. Balling her fists, she wasn't about to give up yet! In her stance, she jumped, leapt and soared into the air and landed next to her father. Both know it wasn't flying, just a jump. Both weren't gong to admit it.

Sparing a quick nod at his daughter, Vegeta turned to his right and crouched into a defensive pose. So did Bra. He gracefully moved into another pose as he followed his basic _kata_. So did Bra. He made a quick punch at the air. As you guessed, so did Bra.

Bulma stood there for close to half an hour just watching them. When her feet started to ache, she jumped up and sat on the edge of the counter but never strayed her eyes from the stern looking man and the bobbing little girl.

Bulma had at one point realised what her daughter was wearing when a slight smudge of dirt was smeared across her back from falling. A white tank top, dark blue shorts and little white socks.

From the distant kitchen window, it looked for the entire world like she was wearing a variation of Saiyan armour, just like her father had once worn day in, day out many years ago. Bulma could decide if seeing a five-year old hybrid, with a temper to match both her mothers _and _her fathers, was a welcome sight or not. As she could hear Trunks yelling goodbye to Goten, she finally turned to continue some work upstairs. She was smiling the whole time.

"_Ow_…"

"Bra?"

Bra sniffed back a few tears as she rubbed her knee. The skin was scraped but there wasn't any blood. It was one of those grazes that _burned_.

"We can stop if you so wish. Your mother will dress that for you." Vegeta stared down at her and made no other move apart from uncrossing his arms and holding out a massive hand. "Just don't cry, child."

Bra looked at his hand before grabbing it and jumping up. "No! I wanna continue, Papa…err, I mean, _Don't cry, child._"

Vegeta nodded to her and moved back into a tall strong pose, fists poised in front of his wide muscular chest. He was about the throw out a few deadly punches into an invisible face.

Instead, he leant down and patted her back. "Keep you back straight, remember?"

"Back straight… back straight." With that, she took a deep breath in…. and punched the air, making any enemy wince in agony from wherever her eye height is (particularly the men). Vegeta, obviously, had rarely felt so proud.

Bulma was lounging on the bed reading _Beauty and the Beast. _It was short and easy to read-perfect for after a days work. Smiling, her mind drifted from the pages as she remembered this had been one of her favourite books since childhood, and was very tatty and worn out over the years, but it was always on her bookshelf of romance novels, sci-fi thrillers and techno-gabble-how-to books that only she and its author could understand. She can remember when she was young, and wore princess costumes out in public, had imaginary tea out of plastic cups and read this book over and over again. She would insist to everybody, even perfect strangers, that one day it would happen to her, a fowl prince would eventually shed his disgusting mask only for her. She laughed as the memory rolled through her thoughts. Maybe she was right- that in some twisted and complicated way it really _did _happen to her, not exactly _how she imagined_, but still. The outcome was similar enough_._ Not that it would make a bit of difference, after all that had happened, she wouldn't have it any other way.

Footsteps on the stairs brought her back. The lighting of the room was golden thanks to the warm, stunning sunset as she stood up and smoothed out her dress. In the middle of summer, it was still very warm and the sky was bright, but it was now evening and she was planning on ordering a pizza, or twenty.

Bulma didn't make it past her bedroom door though. Vegeta was now walking down the hall towards Bra's room. In one hand swung their shoes, his other hand supporting the sleeping child against his chest. He glanced at Bulma and raised a spare finger to his lips before slipping into the pink and yellow nursery, where toys lie abundant like overgrown flowers. Truthfully, he hated the colours, and the lack of floor space, and the general _feeling _this room generated. Especially those caricatured animals with glass eyes scrutinising him all the time. But it didn't matter that much. He'd avoid being in the room for any long amounts of time and was relieved when he gently tucked his daughter into her soft bed. She barely stirred and he could've easily left the room without the fear of hearing a little _"Papa? Don't go…"_

But he lingered there and watched her for a while. Her brilliant blue hair spilled out onto the massive pillow and her chin was tucked under the covers where a Mulan doll was protruding out of the top. Now she looked so calm and… innocent. Innocence. Something Vegeta will never experience...there was always something there that meant he could never completely turn over a new leaf. But at least there _was _a new leaf. A clean, fresh, beautiful new leaf.

Vegeta watched her deep breathing for all of eight seconds then effortlessly tread in silence out of her room. He made sure to shut the door completely (and agonisingly slowly) before responding to the beaming woman.

"No wonder she's so tired. I'd thought she'd never stop. So…Enjoyed your shadow today?" There was defiantly a smug tone there.

"She had perseverance beyond her years. She shows potential, I doubt it'll be much longer before she can fly." His stomach grumbled loudly, signalling to Bulma to hurry up with ordering food. As the woman marched off in search of a menu, Vegeta thought of what Bulma had called their daughter.

"…my shadow…" for some reason, this made him smile. Not a typical Vegeta smirk- a true smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N:_ I just want to say thanks for the great feed back from the first chapter! I only wanted it to be a oneshot but some of you asked for more sooooo... here it is! **

**(btw, sadly my computer won't open my file with my _130 Days_ fic in it :( so the next chapter may take longer then expected)**

**(Oh! And did I mention that I'm over _15,000_ hits now? You guys are amazing, I seriously love you all!) _Enjoy!_**

"Mama! Mama! I can't find them!"

Poking her blue head round the door of her daughter's room, Bulma raised an eyebrow at the pair of legs protruding out from under the little girl's bed. "Can't find what, darling?"

"My blue shorts!" _thump! _"Oww, my head!"

She couldn't help but chuckle as she ambled over. The small pair of legs remained still and silent as she sat down on the bed, sinking into its childhood softness and Bulma eventually came to the conclusion her daughter didn't want to come out. Gently grabbing the girl's ankles and sliding her out, she frowned at the forlorn look upon the child's face, immediately wiping the maternal smile off of her own.

Setting Bra into her lap, the mother ran her fingers through the matching blue locks until she found the tiny bump forming at the back of her head. She kissed it before nuzzling her nose between her pigtails.

"Baby, what's the matter?"

Bra sniffed as she curled her fist into her mama's shirt. "I wanted to wear my blue shorts today because they're more comfortable to train in. Papa said I do better in those."

Bulma grimaced. Yes, her daughter did like to train in those shorts. So much so that she had worn them everyday for the past four days. Last night, she had crept into Bra's room when she was asleep to whisk the filthy things away and wash them before the next day came.

But they weren't dry yet.

"Well, what time did you agree to meet with your father?"

Bra leant backwards to look at the flowery clock on her bedside table; them slammed back to Bulma with a huff. "When the little hand points at eight and the big hand points at twelve."

That gave them six minutes. There was no way to make her shorts dry faster.

"Tell you what," she whispered. "How about you wear your pink shorts today and I'll make sure you have something _really _special to wear tomorrow?"

Bra's interest was caught momentarily but that didn't last long. "Mama, I can't wear a pretty dress when I go training."

The feminist side came out in Bulma. "And why not? Who says you have to train in shorts or trousers?" she was only teasing though.

"Yeah, but you never see Papa or Trunks wear dresses when they train!"

Bulma was close to losing it; the mental image of her husband and son in pink fairy costumes was hilarious.

"It's not funny, Mama! It's not!"

Bulma's teeth bit down on her lip to stop herself. If somebody tells you it's not funny, then they'll just get angrier if you laugh in their face. Especially a little six-year-old girl. "No, it's not sweetheart." Giving her a kiss, the woman said goodbye and left for work.

Pulling a face, Bra looked back at her pink shorts. Although she liked the colour, it wasn't her favourite. That was defiantly blue or red but neither went with pink. Giving up, she clumsily pulled on a white t-shirt and the shorts, hoping the two went together. At least it was comfy. Papa said comfort and flexibility was key in battle. Whatever flexibility meant.

Father and son were sparing in one of the gravity rooms. So far, Vegeta was winning. Trunks may have surpassed his father in strength and certainly had youth on his side, but in tactics and skill alone, Vegeta came out tops. He had years of experience in pinpointing weaknesses in his enemies and using them to his advantage. And of course he knew his son very well.

After letting go of Trunks in his second chokehold position, Vegeta jumped back and planted his hands on his hips. "Come on, boy. I know you can do much better than that!"

"Aw, Dad! Cut me some slack here, I'm dying!" Trunks whined as he cradled his pounding head.

"Hmph. Where's your fight, your fire?" Vegeta chuckled when the look on his sons face went from pained to annoyance at his father obvious goading. "I bet you've flushed it all away, along with your puke, haven't you?"

The boy's reaction wasn't what he'd hoped for. Trunks turned a nasty shade of green before dashing out of the gravity simulator in a blur of white and purple, nearly knocking over his little sister as she waited patiently by the door.

"Hey! Trunks, watch out!" she screamed in his direction but he probably didn't hear her. "Papa, what's wrong with him?"

As Vegeta leant out of the door, he also looked in the direction the nineteen year old had fled. "He's over estimated his ability to safely consume alcohol. In other words," he added as he stepped out completely, "he's never been so hungover in all his life."

Father and daughter echoed a little "moron" together when Bra heard a loud clank. Spinning round, she saw Vegeta locking the door to the GR. "We're not going to train in there today?"

"No."

"_Please_?" she grabbed one of his massive hands with both of her small ones. "I've never been in there before!"

"There's a good reason for that. You've only been learning for five days whereas I've been using it for twenty years. You're simply not ready and you will not be permitted to use the machine until you are."

She lowered her head and let go of his hand, tempted to just stomp in the other direction. She stopped when her father heavy hand rested atop her head. Vegeta could see the hurt glistening in her big eyes and reminded himself that, despite her Saiyan genes and royal blood, she was still a six-year-old half human girl.

"If you want to train in there so badly in the future then I suggest you make yourself ready; lesson begins in fifteen seconds." With that, he became a blur as he sped towards the garden with Bra no less than three feet away from him.

When it came to teaching children, most people would choose to start small and work their way up. Vegeta, however, had chosen to start big and work their way even higher. He had done it with Trunks as he was doing so with Bra; but where Trunks had excelled in strength, he was held back by his cocky attitude and lack of concentration. Bra may not have been as naturally strong as her brother but her sheer determination to do her best rivalled that of her parents. Both of them.

And unlike Trunks, Bra had a hobby in people watching. At a glance, she just knew the basic traits of those around her and who was too stupid to even bother getting to know, and when her father mentioned what signs of weakness to seek in an enemy, the girl was all ears. She listened to father's words of wisdom in deciphering other people as if in a trance and absorbed it all like a sponge.

Vegeta already knew would who would make the better tactician out of his children, strength forgotten.

"…Furthermore, if blood flow has been reduced, to your arm as an example, resist the urge to ignore it. As quickly as possible you must restore the flow of blood in order to prevent stiffness and become better prepared to fight." He rotated his shoulder to demonstrate how to do so.

"But won't that show your opponent that you've got a bad arm?"

"You'd have a lot worse than a bad arm if you didn't, trust me," Vegeta countered. "Just be quick about it, and don't make them think it affects you."

"Oh, okay," Bra nodded before copying her father's demonstration. She had fallen out of the habit of playing copy-cat a couple of days ago when she suddenly realised that it wasn't necessary. Besides, her father seemed happier when she didn't.

"In some cases, it may prove useful to do so anyway, whether or not you need to. Mock weakness can lull an opponent into a false sense of security and they will aim for that spot in particular. So when they strike-"

"You'll be ready for it?"

A smug chuckle escaped him. "Fast learner, aren't you?" Bra beamed back.

The two talked tactics for a while longer before running through some basic moves until lunch. But instead of jumping straight back into training, Bulma insisted the girl have a shower. Vegeta groaned when he found out why.

"No. I see no reason why I have to come."

"But Vegeta, Chi-Chi's been so lonely since Goku left!"

He started to leave when she stepped in front of him. "But honey, it's just for one afternoon-"

"No."

"Gohan will be there, you two could always spar, sweetheart-"

"That fool lost his edge long ago." He tried once again to step around her when she wrapped her slender arms around his neck.

"But Veggie, I can make it worth your while…"

He paused his shrug at the look in her blue eyes. He saw the promise glistening within them. If he looked deeper, he could see that she was offering this not only as a bribe, but because she wanted him as well.

But he was not about to be whipped around by her.

"Thanks for the offer," his husky voice replied. He ran his hand up her arm and she assumed he had fallen for the usual trick until his fingers pulled her arms away. "But I'm not falling for it. Unlike you, I'm not desperate." He smiled evilly as he watched her expression changed from lusty to shock to rage. Bulma was just gulping in a mass amount of air when Bra magically popped up next to them.

"Not desperate for what?"

Her parents looked down at her smile with a blank expression. Simultaneously they thought, _Why does she always catch the wrong part of the conversation? _

When she got no immediately reply, Bra said, "What is mama desperate for, papa?"

Vegeta could only stare blankly at her with his mouth moving silently. His wife smiled to herself and took her chance.

"For your father to come with us this afternoon!" she cried, scooping the little one in her arms. "But you know him, he's just being stubborn, isn't he, Bra? No matter how many time I ask nicely, Mr Grumpy just won't budge."

"Shall I ask him?"

_Oh no, _he thought, _they always gang up on me. Every time they think they can win me over! Well this time they won't! All I have to do is get past the third "no"._

Bra squirmed her way to the ground. All young girls are little but Bra was small in comparison to most. When she tries her best to look small she turned practically tiny, particularly as she gazed adoringly at the prince.

"Please?"

Vegeta, although a short one himself, towered over her with his tall hair blocking out the light and gave the same answer as to her mother. "No."

"Please?" she tried again, opening pulling her hands together. "Papa?"

"I said no. Are the both of you deaf? Or just stupid?"

"Ehem," Bulma interrupted. Her usually cool eyes had hardened into icy steel at his insult. "Just who are you calling stupid, mister?"

"The fact that you heard that eliminates the first option."

"Yes, and guess who else heard it?"

His dark eyes fell to Bra who had stood back from him with her shoulders slumped. She wasn't crying- yet, but her shock would soon give way to her sadness and sudden flow of tears.

"Bra honey," Bulma started to rub the top of her daughters head. "I'm sure he didn't mean it. It's okay, we'll be fine, just the two of us, yeah? We'll go and see Pan ourselves," she ended with a death glare aimed right at him.

Vegeta didn't see it. He was trying to look away, to hide behind his severely crumbled walls but it was only half hearted. Bulma's soothing words fell heavy on his ears but had no effect on Bra.

Frowning, Vegeta walked towards the door, which Bulma had been eager to block earlier but had since given up, and paused to glare at her. "If you don't leave now, than you will be late-"

"Fine," she hissed, "we were leaving anyway. Come one, Bra-"

"-But I can still fly faster than your craft. I will catch up with you after I've cleaned myself up."

She stopped suddenly before flashing him a brilliant smile, one that completely erased the past minute. By her side, Bra did the same, mother and daughter looking like a pair of Russian dolls.

It wasn't Bulma's frosty glare. It wasn't Bra's puppy dog eyes, or her pleads, or even the threat of tears. In the end, it was the blank nod of her little head that did it.

"This damn planets making me soft," he grumbled as he got ready for his shower.

Vegeta was right about being faster than Bulma. In fact he arrived about five minutes before she did, much to her chagrin, not that it lasted (in fact her mind was briefly sketching up plans for her fastest vehicle yet). As expected though, he didn't approach anyone, choosing instead to sit in the shade of the emerald trees. The mountains and meadows surrounding the Son's home was always a hit place to meet in the summer but for once the atmosphere was rather melancholy. There was a big void where Goku should have been, sitting besides his wife and the picnic. Everybody tried their best to smile but the briefest mention of the wandering fighter would pull the mood back down. And it seemed that anything could set Chichi off today.

As much as he didn't care about his absent ex-rival, Vegeta had the decency to keep quiet and 'civil', as Bulma called it. It gave him a chance to done of the things he was best at- brooding. Sitting away from the others with no one to keep him company other than his own mind- most of the time that was exactly how he liked it.

It wasn't like there was anything else to do anyway. He had sparred for a while with the Namek, a fight lost its excitement if drawn out for too long. He was eager to spar with Gohan again, but juggling his erratic mother and being with his young daughter left the prince bored with waiting. And the humans- he wasn't even going to bother. Even his own son had scurried off somewhere in the forests in search for a particular lizard, since Goten was still as enthusiastic about them as when he was a boy.

This was one of the few times he actually missed that oaf. As far as everyone was concerned, the sooner he returned the better-

"That's not fair Pan! You're meant to be my friend!"

Vegeta's eyes flew open when Bra whined. Siting away from everyone else with a few toys flung around them, the youngsters were sitting opposite each other, one scowling, and the other in shock. Pan tightened her grasp around the blue pencil she was holding.

"I don't care! I don't want to play, I don't want to have fun, I don't want anybody!" Pan screamed. "I just want my grandpa back!" Turning heel, the girl stormed a short distance away and plonked herself on the grass.

His dark eyes flashed immediately to Bulma who was already halfway to their daughter with Videl and Chi-Chi rushing to Pan. Gohan stopped by Bulma's side as she swept the tot into her arms and comforted her with gentle sways. From his spot by the trees, Vegeta could hear Gohan's apology.

The younger man sighed. "I guess she just doesn't to be cheered up. She really misses him. We saw him every day since she was a baby and suddenly, he's not here anymore." Shaking his head, he bent down to peak at Bra's teary face. "I'm sorry Bra. I'm sorry Bulma. I promise I'll talk to her-"

Pan exploded at her mother, "NO! I don't want to say sorry!"

"When she's in a better mood," he added.

Bulma shook her head. "What else can we expect from her? She has every right to be upset. Not necessarily to shout at my daughter but still… I apologise for persuading Bra to cheer her up. I even suggested bringing her crayons," she said nodding to the blanket beneath them.

As Gohan knelt to pack away the pencils, Bulma glanced to her husband. She hadn't expected him to exactly run over and comfort their five year old, but she was relieved to see the capsule containing their vehicle already in his hand. With a nod of her head, he tossed it aside as stood ready by the craft, waiting for his wife to say her brief goodbyes, Bra still clinging to her.

"Vegeta?"

He turned to see that Gohan had come to him after seeing Bulma. In his hands were a yellow box full of pencils, and a few pieces of paper.

"I thought I'd better give these to you seeing as Bulma's, you know, got her hands full," he ended awkwardly.

The pureblood stared at him, his gaze never leaving Gohan's as he took the from the half breed's hands. "If Bulma's not saying it, then I will. Nobody is to talk to my family like that. See to it that the child apologises. Soon," he added.

Gohan nodded determinately. As much as he would like to stand up to Pan's sake, he knew Vegeta was only doing the same with Bra. "She will."

Finally, the Prince broke his gaze and turned, the pencils rattling he was dumped them in the back seat. A flash of blue and pink however caught his eye. Holding up the papers, he looked at the picture Bra had drawn of herself and their mother. Bother were wearing identical pink gowns and great time had been taken to sketch patterns on the top. They looked very happy as the held hands with each other. The next piece had been a picture of Trunks fighting (and by the looks of it, winning) again Goten, both smiling. Around them, Pan and Maron were waving at the artist.

Vegeta blinked. For a five year old, she was quite good at drawing. The auras around the boys were tinted with several shades of gold and blue and you could see every streak in Maron's blonde pigtails.

He flipped to the last piece, expecting another vibrant picture full of smiles. On the page, she had drawn only him, in a tall and proud pose. Thankfully, he wasn't wearing a giddy grin like the others, but he was smiling none the less. Judging by the faint pencil marks, she had tried her best to give him the perfect Vegeta smile, and she had done so with flying colours. He guess she knew him better than he thought.

But, unlike the others, he wasn't coloured in, apart from half of his shirt in a deep, almost navy, blue. She hadn't finished it yet, obviously. He frowned at the thought of her happy sketching's disrupted by Pan's bratty outburst. He had seen the look on his Bra's little face afterwards- she was really hurt.

She didn't want to sit in the back on the journey home but begged to sit on Bulma's lap as be soothed by her mama's hushed tones whilst her papa took them all home. Soon, her sobs stopped, then her hiccups, and soon she fell into a puffy eyes doze. Over hear head, Vegeta gave his wife a look. A look that said '_I didn't even want to go in the first place._' Bulma returned a look that simply said, '_shut up._'

**Read & Review :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Last time I posted it, it went a little crazy on me. All I've done is change a line and add a new one. Besides that, it's unchanged. Let'shope it works now.**

**BAD NEWS GUYS! The folder containing my stories on my 'work' computer isn't opening for some unknown reason. I'm having the tech guys look at it but _who knows_ how long that's going t take. And though I could always go at FF to retrieve old chapters, the two new ones are unaccessable. AND my 40k+ unpublished peice! And it wasn't even finished so _all my hard work gone!_**

**So to those who are patient enough and will hopefully still want to read it when I get it back, _thank you_. You all can probably tell that this has gotten me royally peed off! :(**

_**Maybe a review or two will help?**_

They arrived home in silence, both parents heading their own way, Bulma to put Bra to bed, Vegeta to the gravity room. As much as the afternoon had been at some points nice, it had put them in a mood that neither wanted to worsen.

Bra woke up after a couple of hours, her eyes still downcast as she walked right past her mother to watch some TV. No matter how many droning kid songs played she didn't seem to smile once, no matter how many times the colourful airhead presenters told her to. In the corner of the living room, Bulma had taken up some paper work but always kept one eye on her daughter. She would often ask if Bra wanted to talk about it, but after a few ignored answers the concerned mother gave up. She did take regular breaks to sit beside the girl and pull her close. It would soothe her for a while, but that heavy sadness would creep in again after a while. Finishing early, Bulma didn't know what else she could do to help but leave her to it.

In the next room, Bulma pushed the intercom button on the far wall. The button she used was one she had promised to use under very special circumstances. The other end answered with a very gruff "What?"

"Vegeta", she sighed, "don't start with all that _is this an emergency? I told not to interrupt_ crap, ok? I can't deal with that right now." There was silence from the other end. Trust him not to ask. "Bra's still upset-"

"She's a child; it's natural to sulk-"

"Yes she _is _a child, Vegeta! And as a child she's very vulnerable! I don't know what Pan said to her but Bra must have taken it to heart, especially since she's always been strong willed. Can't you please drag yourself out of that hole early for once? I don't know how to help her?"

"And you think _I _can?" he grumbled.

"Maybe if she saw her _papa _actually care for her, then yes!"

On the other end, Vegeta ground his teeth. There was that word again. Papa. Bulma could've said father but no, it had to be papa. It weighed more on his shoulders that the 8oox gravity he was stood in. And how dare she imply that he didn't give a damn?

Twenty minutes and a clean shower later, Vegeta marched to the living room, slowing down as he reached the door. He spared a glanced at Bulma who was leaning heavily against the armchair before he followed her gaze to the source of their worries. Bra was slouched low between two massive cushions with her feet hanging over the edge. The TV flashed from channel to channel as she searched for nothing in particular.

_-click- "I love you, You love-"click – "Order now and get a free-" click- "the migration pattern of these extraordinary fish-" click- "All this on the next exciting episode of Drag-" click-_

Bra stopped momentarily to look up at her father standing next to her. She couldn't read his expression, which was rare for her. The child took this as a sign that he wasn't happy and, in all honesty, she didn't care. She was in a bad enough mood without him making it worse.

"What is this all about?"

She looked at the random channel she had landed on and shrugged. "It's about sponge that lives in the sea and makes burgers. It's funny," she added in a deadpan voice.

"I didn't mean the programme, Bra," Vegeta sternly replied, "I mean why are you lying there feeling sorry for yourself?"

Her thumb pressed even harder on the remote controller. _- click – "A whole new wooooorld-" click – "We were on a break!" - click – "Drink up me hearties yo ho!" - click -_

Finally having enough, the prince whipped the remote out of her hand and turned the damn babble off. "Hey!" she moaned grabbing it. He tossed it none too gently to another sofa before addressing her again.

"You will tell us exactly what's the matter this instant!"

Slapping him on the shoulder, Bulma hissed at him. "Vegeta! What did I say earlier about her feeling vulnerable?"

He turned to her. "You'd rather I didn't ask? From what I've heard, you couldn't get her to talk at all."

Bulma bit back the snide remark she had prepared when she realised it was for first time she had heard the girl speak for several hours. And she was no longer slouched on the sofa. "You know, your people skills still needs _a lot_ of work."

"Ha, looks who's talking."

She didn't like to hear her parents argue. Even if she was mad at one of them, or both of them, she'd never want them to be mad at each other. She was so close to breaking, she was so close to just telling them no matter how they'd react, if only it would make them stop. Almost, until Trunks' ki flooded the building. In a matter of seconds his purple head popped round the door.

"Um, is everybody ok? Chichi told me about what happened earlier so I thought I'd head home."

"Thanks, Trunks, but you didn't have to come back early," Bulma said, before looking back at Vegeta. "But I could use some help, seeing as _somebody's _just being difficult."

"You have the gall to call _me_ difficult when this whole thing could have been sorted out immediately after the problem roused. Instead you back down in front of Gohan and insist that there was no problem at all!" He crossed his arms and faced his wife completely. "Dragging this out has not resolved this woman, and yet you complain that _I'm _the one to make it worse?"

Trunks walked over to his little sister and placed his large hand on he head. "Hey, hey, let's not get carried away you guys-"

"Oh, and would Mr Saintly like to give me anymore advice? I tried my best but I couldn't hug her the whole freaking time!"

"You could if you really wanted to; Dende knows how you mollycoddle the both of them."

Trunks pulled Bra's little head to his chest in an attempt to block out the shouts. "Mum, dad, could you not do this now?"

"What you call 'mollycoddling', I call actually being _around_!"

"_STOP IT!_" Bra ripped off the hand that held her and walked between the bickering couple. "Stop fighting, please!" With that, she dashed from the room as a sob escaped her and didn't stop until she had reached her brightly coloured room, slamming the door behind her hard enough to make the wood crack. The adults downstairs could only stare dumbstruck at the ceiling.

…

The next morning saw the Briefs family at the table finishing off their large breakfast. The men were practically downing their coffee but Bulma had hardly touched hers. She just kept stirring it round and round until Vegeta could no longer handle the ting of her mug on his sensitive ears.

Setting the spoon down, the blunette sighed, "Something's seriously wrong. I've never known her shut herself up like that. Sure she's lost her temper loads of times, but it's never lasted this long."

"No kidding, and the way she lost it when you guys went into her room last night- I was downstairs and she still hurt my ears."

"Well son, the next time a girls door says 'Do Not Disturb' on it, then you'd better do as it says," she replied. Vegeta's frown deepened, knowing this was also directed to him. Getting up, he went to continue his morning training sessions. Bulma shook her head. _Training, it gets old_, she thought.

…

Around mid-morning, there was a polite knock at the door. Of course his instinct was to ignore it, so he turned away and continued like it didn't happen. The knocking happened again, this time louder and more forceful. Years of experience had told him that ignoring it a third time would only lead to hassle and with that the red glow of the room faded to white as earths natural gravity was restored.

"What have I told them about disturbing me?" he grumbled. He opened the door to find Trunks smiling slightly and completely unfazed by Vegeta's harsh "What do you want?"

The teenager smiled widely. "Hey dad, look who I managed to find!" stepping to the side, Vegeta could now clearly see his young daughter sitting on the grass several feet away and by the looks of it she was warming up.

Raising an eyebrow, Vegeta opened a telepathic link to his son. '_How'_

'_I simply said that I was disappointed that I haven't seen any of her moves yet, but seeing as it's been less than a week when she started than I guessed I wouldn't have missed much.'_

'_And you let her competitiveness do the rest?'_

'_Yep, wonder where she gets that from.'_

Watching his son amble back to Bra, the elder prince took a second to admire his sons plan. It was so simple he wondered why he hadn't thought of it. In the bright sunlight, Bra squinted as her father walked over and stood in silence.

Trunks knelt down to her height and tapped her on the shoulder. "I told you dad would watch didn't I? And he's here to help if one of us gets hurt." He clapped his hands and held them up ready to take her punches. "That is, if you're strong enough to hurt me. Show me what you've got!"

Secretly, Ba had been eager to channel her rage on something but had not known how to without wrecking her room. When her brother had suggested training, the little princess jumped at the chance to get into a good spar. Despite the fact that her brother wasn't fighting back and he remained knelt on the grass to keep at her height, she saw it as her first real spar.

Her endurance had certainly increased over that last few days. It took a lot longer before she started showing signs of slowing down. Stepping back, Bra caught her breath, her cheeks blushed from the activity. As she finally managed to breath again, she heard Trunks chuckle.

"Wow, I'm impressed; I had to actually block my face a couple of times. Dad sure has taught you well. Let's see what else you can do by next week?" He stood at started to head back to the main building.

"Wha-? Trunks, where're you going?"

"To work! It's okay, dad's still here, he can help you!"

Her shoulders slumped when he was out of sight. Looking to her right, Vegeta was staring in the direction his son had left before he looked back at her. Before she could say anything he turned to face her completely with his arms crossed as usual.

They spent that training session learning about flips and mid-air kicks. Vegeta really wanted her to learn it before she could fly and not fall back on using her Ki to keep her up. The lesson did not go smoothly. Unlike the other times, Bra couldn't seem to focus long enough to carry out a full body flip and repeatedly fell flat to the ground. There was already streaks of mud on her face.

"If you stick to a rhythm in your head you could do it. Again," her father ordered.

Bra huffed but got back up for the umpteenth time. She bounced up and down on her tip toes a couple of times and shook her head. Under her scowl of annoyance was look of sheer determination. Her father must be right; it's all in the timing. Gathering all her strength in her legs, she ran towards him and flipped in through the air, landing on her palms and pushing the dirt away as the flipped again and again. All she needed to do was the perfect landing. _One two three four, one two three-_

As she had focused so much on her timing, she failed to avoid the patch of grass that was uneven. The difference was only slight, but during her early stages of mastering balance it threw her off completely. Her left arm gave way before she could push off again and her whole body tumbled to the ground and rolled with great speed and winded her, making her forget how to breathe for a few moments. When she finally stopped hyperventilating she sat up, her cheeks glowing pink with embarrassment. She avoided her father's sharp gaze as she flexed her arm, like he had one taught her to. It wasn't too sore, not enough to stop her but the sharp pain on her left got worse and worse. Checking it over, she could see a cut just above her ankle, not very long but it was deep and bright red droplets were being pushed to its surface before trickling down in straight lines.

She couldn't help the sting of tears in her eyes. Over the years she has had a lot worse than that, like the time when stepped on a broken shell at the beach. She was still only a baby and her tough Saiyan had not yet formed. Her whole foot had been bandaged up for a week but somehow this gash on her leg was a thousand times worse.

It was all too much as her tears started to run from her blue eyes as free as the blood from her wound. She pulled her leg closer and tried not to picture the disappointment in her father's face.

Vegeta watched with close eyes his daughter assess her body for any injury, pleased that it was one lesson she had only needed to learn once. When she took time to check her leg he had an inkling something was wrong. Moving closer her could hear her hidden sniffs underneath the stray pieces of aqua hair until she had to crain her neck to look at him.

"I tried, I really did… I can't help… I'm not crying! I'm _not_!" she heatedly added, wiping her arm across her eyes.

It was then he realised that she didn't want him to see her like this. That she didn't want to see the disapproving look on his face. He knew it because once upon a time he'd have expected himself to do so.

Crouching down beside her, he lifted her leg to get a closer look. As her leg moved, little drops of blood fell around the curve of her skin and dripped to the ground. He didn't know what she had cut it on but he'd check later, for now, this needed to be dressed. Without a word, he scooped her up and headed for the medical wing he had become so acquainted with. During the early stage of their relationship, Bulma had joked that he slept more there than with her.

As the prince stood up with his girl in his arms, she took the moment and wrapped her arms around him, and not just her arms but her legs too, burying her face deep into the crook of his neck. There was no point denying it now, she was crying her heart out as his shirt became wet and hot. He didn't tell her to stop but let her cry it out, feeling every shudder in their embrace.

What really got to him though was how quiet she was. No screaming or whining, it was like she didn't have the strength, or she didn't want to be heard. How very unlike her. _This isn't just about her injury anymore_, he thought.

The medical wing was at the end of the long west corridor, and her face was still planted to his shoulder. She made no sound apart from the odd escaped sniffle. The prince had to constantly check that she was indeed crying, or even awake, but he could plainly see her jewelled eyes open, tears were still trickling down her soft cheeks. He couldn't remember the last time she had cried silently, as if in hope nobody would notice her. He didn't think that she'd ever done it at all.

A little timid voice, muffled by his shoulder, piped, "P-papa?"

Grunting, he waited for her to speak. Her only response was the tightening of her arms around his neck. It seemed a long time before she could find the courage to talk. "You won't ever leave us, will you?"

That caught him completely off guard, causing him to stop dead in his tracks. Dumbstruck, he could only stand there, just feet away from the Medical Room doors, and let her words sink in. Those seven little words literally took his breath away as his mind was numbingly filled with white void.

Feeling her grasp tighten with worry, he forced his heavy feet to move, dragging his mind back to the situation at hand. His composure somewhat restored, he strode straight to a cot on placed his still weeping girl in the centre, so her feet couldn't dangle off the edge.

With a close by first aid kit, he went through the old, old routine of cleaning, disinfecting and dressing her cut. She flinched slightly as the bitter sting clawed at her skin, but it didn't last long. After it was clean he used some stick on stitched, the kind that dissolve, to hold together the small but deep cut. She was temporarily soothed by the cooling cream, soaking into her flaming skin under a large square plaster. Clearing away the mess, Vegeta kept a cautious eye on Bra, his mind replaying her question over and over again, causing his actions to slow whenever he lost his focus. That was very rare for him. Dusting off his hands, he stood completely in front of her. She picked slightly at the plaster with feigned fascination. Closer he stood to her and crossed his arms. Whether he wanted to or not, he needed to _talk things through _with her and he was going to have to have her undivided attention. Since yesterday she had walked around with a grief beyond her years and there was no way her was going to let her do it for one minute longer.

"Bra, I need you to tell me why you asked that question."

She looked away in stubborn embarrassment.

"Bra…" he said again, his voice drawing out in a deeper voice. It wasn't angry, but he warned her in his tone that he could be soon. "Tell me now why you asked me that."

"Pan… Pan said that…" she whimpered, her seat making her eye height with his wide chest, especially as she avoided looking at him. Finally she squeezed her shiny eyes and in one breath yelled, "That her grandpa was always really happy and played with them all the time but he still wanted to leave and if he could do it why couldn't you!"

Her sobs became heavy yet again, only this time they were louder. Whether silent or shrill, every shake of her small frame made his chest ache (though he could never admit it out loud). Taking a second to ready himself, he slowly leant against the cot, palms flat either side of her. Still she kept her eyes shut until finally, Vegeta softly told her to stop. She looked him right in the face, only inches away.

"All of this over what Pan had said to you?" he said. "All of your tears and moping over what some brattish third class girl said in a moment of anger and jealousy? About her fooling clown of a grandfather and his decision to abandon them?" He half stood up again in bewilderment.

"But he loved them, she said so! And he was never, ever angry!"

He opened his mouth to make a remark about the younger Saiyan's immense stupidity, but shut it again when he picked up the unspoken issue in his daughters words. "You're thinking that because I do not always appear happy and my temper has, I'll admit, never been easy to control, and that I would have a greater reason to leave as well."

The unveiled look of fear in her glittering eyes confirmed it.

Tapping the mattress, he wished he could be any other place than there. The prince had never been good with his emotions, and they had only gotten worse since his life on earth had begun. This was something that Bulma could handle much better-

_No_, he decided. Not in this case. Since yesterday she had no real problem with her mother or her brother. He thought that it was just his attitude that had pressed the young girl. It obviously went much deeper and it was something only he could do.

Leaning down, Vegeta made sure he regained eye contact with his daughter. She squirmed a bit under his intense gaze, but she wasn't scared of him, not ever. "Bra, I need you to listen very carefully, because I'm not sure if I could ever repeat it." He took a comforting breath.

"I may never be able to smile like Kakarrot, or laugh like him, or play games for _fun_. I may never appear, as you put it, _happy_ as he does. But that does not mean that I'm not. Despite what those fools your mother calls friends say, I am happy, Bra. But unlike Kakarrot, there are very few things in this world that can do this."

"If there aren't many for you and lots of stuff for Goku, then why did he leave?"

"Because," he murmured in a low tone, "_too_ much makes him happy." At her confuse look, he added, "That fool has seen his life as one great adventure with a new challenge around every corner. Even the lure of his own family could not keep him rooted in one place for barely ten years. And though he was obviously happy _with_ them, there are several reason why he can also be happy _without_ them."

Here the prince gave a mighty sigh and closed his eyes. Now came the real hard part. "My life has never been an adventure. It's been one struggle to the next and it was only until recently, Bra, that I could find peace within myself to understand, no, to welcome this- happiness that I can only receive from three things."

Opening his eyes, he saw her face smiling for the first time since yesterday morning. He almost missed it. With a secretive grin, she whispered in his ear, "Like me and mama and Trunks?"

Leaning his forehead against hers, he allowed himself to whisper back, "Especially you and mama and Trunks."

She kissed him on his pointy nose and lugned at him, hugging him tightly. He plucked her off the cot and marched tall again with his regained posture of authority and headed in the direction of the living quarters, but before they had even reached the door of the Medical Room, Bra tapped his shoulder.

"So you promise that you won't ever leave us? Never ever?"

Vegeta chuckled at her childish wording, but took every word to heart. Reaching to grab her hand and stop it poking his skin again, he said. "I promise princess. I will never…ever… leave you."

Like the blowing out of a candle, Bra felt all of her sadness and stress of the past day vanquish, she and her beloved papa went back upstairs. On her little face was a smile that could have outshone the sun itself.

**A/N: I really tried not to make it OOC, but with such cutness and sorrow, it's hard. And you don't think I've made Bra too whimpy do you? Or she cries too much? :S**


End file.
